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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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ROBERT  HENRI 


A\vy, 


ROBERT  HENRI 


HIS  LIFE  AND  WORKS 

WITH  FORTY  REPRODUCTIONS 


EDITED  BY 

WILLIAM  YARROW 

AND 

LOUIS  BOUCHE 


PRIVATELY  PRINTED  FCR  SUBSCRIBERS  ONLY  BY 
BONI  & LIVERIGHT  : : : : : : NEW  YORK 


1921 


ROBERT  H ENRI 


COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY 
BONI  8C  LIVERIGHT,  INC. 
Printed  in  the  U.  S.  of  America 


I 

iONKANI 

> 

at 

I 

-1VERIGH 

r 

THIS  EDITION  IS  STRICTLY  LIMITED  TO  NINE  HUNDRED 
AND  NINETY  NUMBERED  COPIES,  OF  WHICH  THIS  IS 
COPY  NUMBER 6 O 


THE  GETTY  RL. 1 

INSTITUTE  LIBRARY 


FOREWORD 


The  literature  engendered  by  recent  art  has 
been  abundant  and  often  brilliant,  but  it  has  been 
concerned  with  psychology  and  technique;  and  its 
specialized  dispersions  have  confused  the  general 
movement.  The  American  public,  bewildered  by  so 
much  theorizing,  has  come  to  regard  its  own  art  as 
an  unintelligible  imitation  of  the  French,  and  its 
artists  as  an  inhuman  class  of  men  blind  to  the  life 
surrounding  them. 

This  condition  has  led  to  the  belief  that  an 
American  Art  Library  would  be  not  less  welcome 
than  instructive.  In  preparing  the  monographs  no 
pains  will  be  spared  to  make  them  attractive  in 
letterpress  and  reproductions;  to  make  the  text 
within  the  grasp  of  the  average  reader,  and  at  the 
same  time  consistent  with  the  highest  critical 
thought. 

Artists  of  unquestionable  accomplishment  will 
first  be  represented,  followed  by  the  younger  men 
as  their  work  takes  maturity.  1 am  convinced 
that  a succession  of  monographs  will  show  that 
modern  American  art,  while  inferior  in  magnitude, 
is  equal  to  the  European  in  variety  and  interest. 

Thomas  Jewell  Craven. 


[7] 


L 


ROBERT  HENRI 


■ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece  Opposite  Page 

The  Segovia  Girl  36 

Gypsy  with  Cigarette  38 

The  Red  Top  Collection  of  Amos  Pinchot  40 

The  Fish  Market  Man  Collection  of  Barr  McCutcheon  42 

Lady  in  Black  44 

The  Shave  Head  Collection  of  G.  A.  Stephens  46 

Hawaii  and  Navaho  48 

Irish  Lass  50 

Portrait  of  “Pat”  Roberts  Collection  of  Lloyd  Roberts  52 

Cecilia  54 

Betalo  Rubino  Collection  of  City  Museum,  St.  Louis  56 

Mary  O’D.  Collection  of  H.  L.  Warner  58 

Mary  of  Connemara  60 

Dutch  Joe  Collection  of  Art  Institute  of  Milwaukee  62 

Beatrice  Collection  of  Cincinnati  Museum  64 

Roshanara  Collection  of  Cincinnati  Museum  66 

Portrait  of  Fayette  Smith  Collection  of  Clyde  M.  Carr  68 

Spanish  Gypsy  Collection  of  Metropolitan  Museum,  N.  Y.  70 

La  Neige  Collection  of  MuseedeLuxembourgh,  Paris  72 

Willie  Gee  Collection  of  Corcoran  Gallery  74 

Ruth  St.  Denis  in  “The  Peacock  Dance”  76 

Tony  78 

Head  of  a Man  80 

Laughing  Gypsy  Girl  Collection  of  Mrs.  Marshall  Field  82 

Ballet  Dancer  in  White  Collection  of  Dr.  A.  C.  Barnes  84 

The  Beach  Hat  Collection  of  Detroit  Institute  of  Art  86 

Portrait  of  Jean  Collection  of  Albert  E.  McVitty  88 

Josee  Collection  of  Dr.  George  Woodward  90 

Fay  Bainter  as  the  Image  in  “The  Willow  Tree”  92 

Irish  Lad  94 

Cinco  Centimo  96 

Sis  Collection  of  Miss  Julia  E.  Peck  98 

Young  Woman  in  Black  Collection  of  Art  Institute  of  Chicago  100 

Manus  Collection  of  Paul  Schulze  102 

Catherine  Collection  of  W.  J.  Johnson  104 

The  Red  Shawl  Collection  of  Dr.  A.  R.  L.  Dohme  106 

The  Guide  to  Croaghan  Collection  of  Miss  Julia  E.  Peck  108 

Miss  Mary  Patterson  Collection  of  Mrs.  H.  G.  Carnell  1 10 

The  Working  Man  112 

Imaginative  Boy  Collection  of  Mrs.  Marshall  Field  114 


ROBERT  HENRI 


ROBERT  HENRI 


DURING  the  last  thirty  years  American  painting 
has  approached  a national  significance.  Derived 
from  continental  sources,  it  has  taken  gradually 
the  individual  stamp  of  a young  and  acquisitive  people. 
Transformed  by  the  eagerness  of  the  American  intellect,  the 
great  traditions  have  received  a new  accent,  although,  in  many 
cases,  neither  a wise  nor  a lasting  one,  our  faculties  of  as= 
similation  out=weighing  our  powers  of  creation.  American 
painting  is  still  engaged  in  amplifying  rather  than  originating 
artistic  beliefs,  hence  the  common  assertion  that  we  have 
made  academic  the  ideas  of  Europe.  Such  a fact  is  distressing 
only  when  superficially  considered,  for  as  a race  we  are 
European  and  therein  lies  our  strength  as  well  as  our  weakness. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  a nation  so  lacking  in 
aesthetic  tradition  to  disregard  completely  the  accumulated 
knowledge  of  other  countries.  If  we  had,  as  a people,  sprung 
from  native  soil,  our  art  history  would  be  far  different.  We 
would  then  have  centuries  of  ancestral  precedent,  and  our 
present  art  would  be  the  product  of  a direct  racial  experience. 
But  to  regret  the  lack  of  this  experience  is  to  remain  blind  to 
the  diverse  and  splendid  qualities  of  our  accomplishments. 

Too  often  have  we  borrowed  and  wrung  dry  the  idiom  of 
Europe  and  the  result  has  been  the  lifeless  effigy  of  a vital 

[ 13] 

— 


ROBERT  HENRI 


thought.  We  have  imitated  the  trick  of  technique;  seized 
the  inflection  rather  than  the  content.  As  evidence  of  this 
it  is  only  necessary  to  note  the  conclusive  manner  in  which 
each  group  or  movement  has  turned  from  one  preceding  it 
and  sought  its  inspiration  afresh  in  the  latest  European 
manner.  Instinctively  we  have  realized  that  American  art 
is  very  often  but  a semblance  of  the  genuine  thing. 

To  many  the  American  artist  is  a paradox,  with  his  native 
habits  and  his  veneer  of  European  training  so  he  has  been 
considered  too  lightly  by  those  insensible  of  his  difficult 
position.  The  fact  that  he  has  depended  so  largely  on  bor- 
rowed material  has  severely  handicapped  him  in  the  eyes  of  an 
unthinking  public  who  have  failed  to  realize  that,  probably, 
the  arts  of  only  Holland  and  Italy  stand  firmly  entrenched  in  a 
tradition  extending  back  through  the  centuries.  It  is  of 
course  useless  to  deny  that  every  country  furnishes  that 
peculiarly  national  flavor  to  its  art  productions  that  evades 
analysis.  And  we,  too,  have  seen  that  element  which  we  call 
American  growing  steadily  in  the  art  of  this  country.  It  does 
not  seem  so  much  to  lie  in  the  method  employed  in  the  presenta- 
tion of  ideas  or  in  the  use  of  a new  composition,  as  in  youthful 
curiosity  and  experimentation.  Immaturity  and  uncalculated 
enthusiasm,  as  often  as  not,  indicate  their  presence  as  certainly 
as  the  superb  poise  of  a Ryder,  a Homer,  or  an  Eakins. 

Since  the  passing  of  this  great  triumvirate,  no  man  has 
been  a more  important  factor  in  the  forming  of  a national 


ROBERT  HENRI 


[14] 


tradition  than  Robert  Henri.  As  painter,  teacher  and  human 
being  he  holds  a unique  position  in  America  today.  The  debt 
to  him  is  a large  one,  and  no  one  familiar  with  his  remarkably 
lucid  expression,  with  his  courageous  fight  in  all  matters  per= 
taining  to  his  profession  and  with  his  profoundly  human 
qualities  can  question  his  position  as  one  of  the  big  figures  in 
American  painting. 

Trained  in  the  French  academies  he  turned  his  back  on 
their  cut=and=dried  formulas  and  found  his  incentives,  first, 
in  the  old  masters  and  later  in  the  revolutionary  painters  of 
the  last  century.  With  such  a background  of  experience,  for 
the  past  twenty  years  he  has  held  an  undisputed  place  among 
those  whose  work  has  had  a powerful  effect  on  modern  paint- 
ing in  this  country.  Time  has  apparently  not  decreased  the 
stimulating  effect  of  his  personality  and  he  is  constantly 
developing  with  the  enthusiasm  one  associates  with  youth 
alone.  By  nature  a leader,  in  spite  of  his  modesty,  his  influ- 
ence has  been  felt  in  every  movement  for  the  freedom  of 
plastic  expression.  His  spirit  is  not  confined  to  mere  liber- 
ality,  but  is  a mixture  of  passionate  eagerness  and  wisdom 
and  in  the  strictest  connotation  of  the  word,  it  is  intensely 
American. 


[ 15  ] 


ROBERT  HENRI 


XT  has  been  said  that  Henri  is  not  a Modern.  Though 
his  art  stands  solidly  on  its  own  merits,  the  truth  or 
falsity  of  this  statement  should  be  well  considered. 
If  he  is  not  a Modern,  then  neither  is  Courbet  nor  Manet. 
Not  that  there  is  any  close  resemblance  between  their 
work  and  his,  aside  from  the  same  fluent  notation  of  facts 
clearly  perceived.  Nor  did  they  utilize  those  technical  methods 
ordinarily  associated  with  the  term  Modern.  The  belief  that 
Henri  is  not  a Modern  is  largely  due  to  the  fallacy,  so  popular 
among  writers  on  recent  art,  that  modern  art  is  merely  a 
matter  of  technical  procedure.  Again  we  find  the  usual  con= 
fusion  of  means  and  content.  The  important  contribution 
of  modern  painting  has  been  the  enforcement  of  the  formal 
foundation  of  a picture;  the  development  of  the  abstract 
organization  underlying  every  work  of  art.  But  this  is  an 
intellectual  fact  and  not  a technical  one.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  this  search  for  the  basic  order  of  a picture,  as  an  end  in 
itself,  has  been  productive  of  a somewhat  new  mechanics  in 
the  use  of  the  medium  but  this  mechanics  of  itself,  does  not 
result  in  art.  Too  often  it  is  but  the  unintelligent  aping  of 
some  particular  phraseology.  In  consequence  modern  art  is 
unfortunately  linked  with  this  phraseology  rather  than  with 
the  spiritual  need  that  prompted  it.  The  use  of  new  instru= 
ments  of  expression  is  of  value  only  when  it  is  commensurate 
with  the  embellishment  of  an  idea;  hence  the  uselessness  of 
so  much  of  the  experimentation  in  present  day  painting. 
The  truly  significant  modern  artists  are  they  who  are  mining 

[16] 

ROBERT  HENRI  1“'  1 ""  i . « 


the  possibilities  of  form,  not  those  who  are  merely  attempting 
to  invest  their  work  with  novel  technical  effects.  This  is 
why  it  is  impossible  to  classify  an  artist  by  the  manner  in 
which  he  handles  his  implements.  It  is  his  use  of  plastic 
forms  and  their  construction  alone  that  stamps  him.  Even 
the  development  of  a wide  color  gamut  is  the  outcome  of  an 
ever=broadening  spiritual  need,  not  of  the  desire  to  astonish 
by  a brilliancy  of  surface. 

Henri  is  modern,  therefore,  in  this  respect  he  is  contin= 
ually  searching  for  the  abstract  basis  on  which  his  picture  is 
to  be  built.  He  does  not  always  succeed,  and  his  failures 
like  all  such  failures  arise  from  his  inability  to  grasp  that 
abstraction.  But  on  the  other  hand  when  he  does  succeed 
the  result  is  not  proclaimed  by  the  manner  of  his  painting 
but  by  the  completeness  of  his  conception,  which  is  purely  a 
formal  one. 

He  was  born  of  American  parents  in  1865.  His  family,  of 
French,  English  and  Irish  origin,  had  lived  for  several  genera= 
tions  in  Virginia,  Kentucky  and  Ohio.  As  a boy  he  traveled 
through  the  West,  and  the  youthful  impressions  arising  from 
the  vivid  contrast  between  the  primitive  life  of  Colorado,  and 
his  experiences  in  Cincinnati  and  New  York,  first  stimulated 
his  interest  in  these  different  phases  of  American  civilization. 

He  early  decided  to  be  a writer  and  almost  before  he  had 
finished  reading  his  first  book  had  started  writing  one  of  his 
own. 

[ 17] 

“ ROB£RT  HENRI 


These  youthful  literary  aspirations  continued  for  several 
years  until,  on  seeing  some  one  paint  for  the  first  time,  he 
abandoned  the  pen  for  the  brush,  with  a mingling  of  reluctance 
and  yet  intense  interest  in  the  new  medium. 

In  1886  he  entered  the  schools  of  the  Pennsylvania  Acad= 
emy  of  the  Fine  Arts.  At  that  time  the  instructors  were 
Thomas  Anshutz,  James  B.  Kelly,  and  Thomas  Hovenden. 
It  was  in  Anshutz  that  he  found  an  artist,  learned  and  broad= 
minded,  and  he  established  a friendship  with  him  which 
lasted  until  the  older  man’s  death.  Thomas  Eakins  had 
recently  left  the  Academy  as  instructor  but  the  influence  of 
his  personality  was  still  strong  and  Henri  was  one  of  the  first 
to  recognize  in  him  the  great  painter  we  now  know  him  to 
have  been. 

At  the  school  Henri  worked  diligently  for  two  years, 
undergoing  the  usual  routine  of  drawing  from  the 
antique  and  painting  from  life,  besides  devoting  considerable 
time  to  modeling.  In  this  modeling  class  Alexander 
Sterling  Calder  and  Charles  Grafly  were  members.  In  1888 
he  went  to  Paris  in  the  company  of  Grafly,  J.  R.  Fisher, 
Harry  Finney  and  William  Hoefeker,  to  enroll  himself  at 
Julien’s  under  Bougereau  and  Fleury.  He  also  studied 
for  a period  at  the  Beaux=Arts.  He  divided  his  days  between 
the  schools,  endeavoring  to  force  his  rebellious  spirit  into  the 
rigid  mold  of  their  prescribed  principles.  He  struggled  with 
the  tight  painting  then  in  vogue,  only  to  realize  that  he  was 


ROBERT  HENRI  |' 


t 18  ] 


temperamentally  unfitted  for  the  role  of  academician.  He 
revolted  against  their  meticulous  and  arid  drawings;  and  in 
his  inability  to  clarify  his  own  mind,  turned  in  desperation 
to  the  old  masters.  Discouraged  over  his  failure  he  spent 
long  days  in  the  Louvre,  wandering  from  gallery  to  gallery 
and  there  it  was  he  discovered  Rembrandt,  Velasquez,  and 
Hals.  His  comprehension  of  El  Greco  did  not  follow  until 
much  later.  In  Rembrandt  particularly,  he  found  that 
“livingness”  for  which  he  had  sought  in  vain  at  Julien’s. 

Day  after  day  he  returned  to  his  newly  found  master,  his 
dissatisfaction  filling  him  with  a resolve  to  free  himself  from 
the  bondage  of  dogma. 

He  understood  how  wrong  was  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  been  taught  to  draw  and  he  vaguely  felt,  when  following 
the  sinuous  lines  of  the  human  figure,  the  existence  of  an 
elusive  quality  of  form  that  his  cold  efforts  did  not  encompass. 
Although  unable  to  reason  out  the  cause  of  his  failure  he 
doggedly  continued  his  search. 

The  Impressionists  were  then  enduring  a storm  of  abuse 
and  their  work,  anathema  at  the  Salon,  won  first  his  curiosity 
and  finally  his  allegiance.  He  matched  their  revolutionary 
spirit  with  his  own  enthusiasm,  finding  his  raison  d’etre  in 
this  world  of  radicals.  In  the  academy  he  was  severely  warned 
against  their  insidious  influence,  but  in  spite  of  his  independ= 
ence,  was  favorably  mentioned  by  Bourgereau  at  the  end  of 
his  first  year. 

[ 19] 

ROBERT  HENRI 


The  first  modern  painter  to  interest  him  was  Courbet  and 
in  the  work  of  both  men  is  the  somewhat  similar  directness 
and  uncompromising  vision.  Necessarily  Manet  also  left  an 
imprint  on  his  work  and  then  Whistler,  although  the  latter’s 
influence  is  felt,  not  so  much  in  Henri’s  later  work  as  in  those 
low=toned  portraits  painted  on  his  return  from  Paris.  In 
them  is  much  of  the  same  subtle  juxtaposition  of  neutral 
greys  and  the  use  of  a palette  purposely  restricted.  To=day 
his  color  has  become  fuller  and  the  change  from  value  to 
value  a more  rapid  one.  Instead  of  the  former  flat  treatment 
of  broad  plaques  of  color  his  painting  is  now  modulated  by 
many  gradations  of  form. 

One  finds  in  American  painting  no  human  documents 
more  convincing  than  those  early  portraits,  notably  “The 
Young  Woman  in  Black,’’  “The  Woman  in  White’’  and  the 
studies  of  Spanish  peasants.  He  seems  to  have  developed  less 
vigorously  at  this  stage  and  some  of  the  canvases  of  his  youth 
have  a finality  about  them  which  his  later  work  lacks.  They 
mark  a complete  summary  of  that  period  of  his  artistic  evolu= 
tion,  whereas  his  more  recent  paintings  bear  evidence  of  a 
maturer  intelligence  and  a continual  and  successful  search 
for  his  own  way  of  seeing  nature.  His  work  then,  like  the 
work  of  all  younger  men,  could  more  readily  be  catalogued 
as  the  product  of  a specific  tendency,  while  the  pictures  he  is 
producing  to=day  could  only  be  the  work  of  Robert  Henri. 
His  growth  has  been  a logical  one.  He  is,  first  of  all,  tensely 

[20] 

ROBERT  HENRI  I 


alive  to  the  character  of  people,  and  perhaps  no  painter  has 
ever  portrayed  that  character  more  convincingly.  Taken 
feature  for  feature,  his  portraits  do  not  give  the  minute  ac= 
curacy  of  statement  demanded  of  the  popular  portrait  painter 
but  they  are  far  more  alive  than  such  stereotyped  delineations. 
One  receives  from  them  the  impression  that  they  are  the 
truth  about  the  persons  while  Henri  was  observing  them. 
Perhaps  another  day  they  would  appear  totally  different  but 
the  actual  conformation,  texture  and  color  of  their  features 
would  remain  the  same.  One  feels,  despite  Henri’s  past 
experience,  the  entire  absence  of  a set  formula  and  an  aston= 
ishing  capacity  to  note  his  sitter’s  appearance  at  a given 
moment.  It  may  be  the  grin  on  a child’s  face,  the  surly  side= 
glance  of  a Mexican  or  the  stolid  stare  of  a Chinese  girl,  but 
it  always  convinces.  The  grin  is  slashed  across  the  face, 
seemingly  with  carelessness,  actually  with  remarkably  ac= 
curacy;  the  surly  face  of  the  Mexican  is  heavy  and  sodden  in 
treatment  and  the  Chinese  girl  is  broadly  and  suavely  painted, 
the  resultant  effect  of  which  is  a technical  handling  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  character  of  his  subject. 


[21  ] 


ROBERT  HENRI 


"•  HE  summer  of  1889  Henri  spent  at  Concarneau, 

f|  ^ j Finisterre,  painting  the  landscape,  drawing  from 
the  model  and  laboring  to  determine  the  direction 
his  future  should  take.  He  was  still  puzzled  over  the  cold 
precision  of  his  results,  until  a strange  experience  made 
clear  to  him  the  path  that  he  has  followed  ever  since. 


One  day  while  returning  from  work  he  passed  a large 
granary.  His  eye  was  attracted  by  a crack  in  one  of  the  walls 
which  revealed  an  illumination.  Surprised  and  curious, 
knowing  that  such  buildings  were  usually  kept  dark,  and 
seeing  neither  door  nor  window  through  which  such  a light 
might  enter,  he  approached  and  placing  his  eye  to  the  aperture 
saw  that  it  was  occasioned  by  a direct  ray  of  the  sun  streaming 
through  a small  hole  high  up  in  the  western  wall.  His  atten= 
tion,  however,  was  immediately  focused  on  a canvas  leaning 
against  a box.  It  was  the  study  of  a nude,  crouching  woman. 
He  watched  excitedly,  for  in  it  he  seemed  to  see  the  solution 
of  all  his  problems;  the  simple  yet  complete  sequence  of  lines, 
the  ever=changing  modulation  of  ruddy  flesh=tones,  the  whole 
painted  apparently  with  a single  broad  brush=stroke  which 
developed  the  form  in  all  its  details.  As  he  stared  the  light 
gradually  faded  and  the  picture  disappeared,  but  what  he 
had  witnessed  remained  with  him  many  days.  Later  he  had 
access  to  the  granary  and  viewing  the  canvas  under  normal 
conditions,  found  it  strangely  lacking  in  all  those  qualities 
it  had  seemed  to  possess  but  it  had  served  his  purpose,  for  in 


[22  ] 


ROBERT  HENRI 


it,  achieved  and  definite,  he  had  found  the  truth  for  which 
he  had  vainly  sought.  He  attacked  his  work  with  a new 
confidence,  the  subsequent  ideas  formed  during  the  summer 
establishing  his  point  of  view.  His  new  aim  was  an  exceed= 
ingly  simple  one;  to  achieve  the  glow  of  life,  and  to  restrict 
himself  only  to  that  means  which  best  expressed  it.  And 
this  sense  of  vitality  of  his  people  is  one  of  the  most  notable 
virtues  of  his  art. 

On  his  return  to  Paris  he  found  himself  more  disheartened 
than  ever  over  his  school  studies,  but  he  put  forth  every  effort 
to  do  the  orthodox  sort  of  thing.  Needless  to  say  he  failed 
and  finally  abandoned  the  school.  He  never  again  studied 
in  an  academy.  Whatever  might  be  the  result,  he  was  re= 
solved  henceforth,  right  or  wrong,  to  set  down  what  he  saw, 
in  his  own  way.  In  several  other  men  of  his  own  age  he  found 
fellowship  and  a feeling  of  common  boredom  with  all  they 
had  been  taught,  and  they  spent  their  days  and  most  of  the 
nights  discussing  and  criticizing  each  other’s  work. 

During  a trip  to  Italy  in  1890,  he  first  grasped  the  sig= 
nificance  of  the  Renaissance  and  found  himself  swayed 
equally  by  the  primitives  and  the  complex  luxuriance  of  the 
Venetians.  He  passed  several  months  in  travel  and  study 
and  the  following  year  on  returning  to  America  settled  in 
Philadelphia  where  he  resumed  his  friendship  with  Thomas 
Anshutz.  At  the  instigation  of  Henry  McCarter  he  became 
an  instructor  at  the  Women’s  School  of  Design  and  taught 


[23] 


ROBERT  HENRI 


there  for  several  years.  He  had  a studio  at  806  Walnut  Street 
and  in  this  workshop  the  men  who  later  were  to  be  recognized 
as  a famous  group,  first  assembled.  It  included  the  painter 
John  Sloan,  also  an  etcher  and  lithographer  of  the  first  rank; 
W.  J.  Glackens,  to=day  one  of  our  most  important  figures  and 
landscape  painters;  that  astonishing  man,  George  Luks; 
Everett  Shinn,  noted  for  his  studies  of  the  theatre;  James 
Preston,  the  illustrator;  the  landscape  painter,  Elmer  W. 
Schofield;  A.  S.  Calder,  Charles  Grafly  and  E.  W.  Redfield. 

It  was  a group  intensely  alive  to  the  shifting  aspects  of 
the  actual  life  of  their  time,  searching  for  the  particular 
gesture  that  best  exemplified  the  character  of  their  subjects. 
They  had  assimilated  the  work  of  Daumier,  Gavarni,  Toulouse= 
Lautrec  and  John  Leech.  They  stripped  the  vestments  of 
conventionality  from  life,  and  what  appeared  they  tried  to 
record,  directly  and  spontaneously.  Their  lack  of  knowledge 
was  atoned  for  by  their  trenchant  characterizations.  They 
were  alive  and  that  was  their  salvation,  and  their  work  con= 
tained  amazing  records  of  all  they  saw  and  felt;  cafes,  the= 
atres,  the  streets,  tenements,  prize=fights,  everything  in  fact 
that  contained  the  movement  of  human  beings.  They  dis= 
cussed  life,  art,  books,  music  and  held  fiery  and  none  too 
polite  debates  on  politics  and  ethics.  The  plays  of  C.  N. 
Williamson,  which  they  acted  before  crowds  of  students,  are 
still  recalled  by  many  of  the  artists  then  studying  at  the 
academy. 


ROBERT  HENRI 


[ 24  ] 


In  1894  Henri  and  Glackens  shared  a studio  at  1919  Chest= 
nut  Street.  Two  years  in  Paris  followed.  Henri  opened  a 
class  attended  by  students  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  which 
proved  to  be  one  of  his  most  interesting  ventures  as  a teacher. 

In  1907  he  again  exposed  at  the  Salon,  and  on  returning  to 
America  in  the  same  year,  gave  his  first  “one=man”  exhibi= 
tion.  It  was  held  at  the  Pennsylvania  Academy,  the  director, 
Harrison  S.  Morris,  having  arranged  the  matter  at  the  sug= 
gestion  of  Alexander  Harrison.  The  exhibition  was  an  im= 
portant  event  in  Philadelphia  and  did  much  to  enhance 
Henri’s  already  growing  reputation. 

In  1898  he  had  married  Miss  Linda  Craige  of  Philadelphia, 
and  the  succeeding  year  found  him  again  in  Paris,  painting 
the  same  type  of  subject  he  had  chosen  in  America.  At  that 
period  he  did  not  confine  himself  to  portraits,  or  “people”  as 
he  prefers  to  call  them,  as  much  as  he  does  to=day,  and  was 
first  represented  in  the  Salon  by  a street  scene.  It  was  called 
“La  Neige”  and  much  to  his  astonishment  was  purchased  by 
the  Luxembourg  Museum,  where  it  hangs  to=day.  Another 
summer  in  Concarneau  and  he  returned  to  America,  this 
time  to  settle  in  New  York,  which  was  rapidly  becoming  the 
art  center  of  the  country.  He  rented  a studio  in  an  old 
house  at  the  extreme  end  of  Fifty=eighth  Street  overlooking 
the  East  River  and  Blackwell’s  Island.  The  neighborhood 
attracted  him,  with  its  bleak  tenements  and  swarming 
streets  and  the  towering  bridges  and  the  river  crowded  with 

[25] 

ROBERT  HENRI 


boats.  After  the  placid  vistas  of  Paris  he  was  dazed  by  the 
gigantic  expanse  of  steel  and  stone  and  the  throngs  of  surging 
humanity.  But  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  his  memories  of 
the  French  city  and  found  it  so  difficult  to  absorb  the  spirit 
of  his  new  environment  that  he  was  never  satisfied  with  the 
results  of  his  work. 

At  this  time  he  was  teaching  at  the  Veltin  School  but  in 
1903  transferred  his  attention  to  The  New  York  School  of  Art 
then  known  as  the  Chase  School.  It  was  at  the  corner  of 
Sixth  Avenue  and  Fifty=seventh  Street  and  later  at  Eightieth 
and  Broadway.  He  taught  there  until  1907. 

In  1905  Mrs.  Henri  had  died,  and  shortly  after  this  he 
started  the  Henri  School  of  Art  which  continued  in  existence 
until  1912,  when  he  relinquished  his  classes  and  turned  the 
school  over  to  certain  of  his  former  students.  Since  then  he 
has  restricted  his  activities  as  a teacher  to  the  Art  Students’ 
League,  with  the  exception  of  the  years  from  1912  to  1918, 
during  which  he  also  instructed  at  the  Ferrar  School. 

From  1906  to  the  outbreak  of  the  war  he  travelled  exten= 
sively,  painting  his  inimitable  studies  of  people  in  many 
parts  of  the  world.  To  these  years  belong  some  of  the  finest 
things  he  has  painted,  notably  his  Irish  and  Gypsy  types,  his 
Maine  natives  and  those  remarkable  portraits  of  the  Indians 
of  California  and  New  Mexico. 


ROBERT  HENRI 


[26] 


In  1908  he  was  married  to  Miss  Marjorie  Organ,  herself 
an  artist  of  discernment.  She  was  well  known  as  a caricat- 
urist  on  the  staffs  of  the  N.  Y.  Journal  and  the  N.  Y.  World. 
In  this  same  year  the  group  known  as  the  “Eight”  was  formed. 
It  consisted  of  Robert  Henri,  Maurice  Prendergast,  John  Sloan, 
Everett  Shinn,  Ernest  Lawson,  William  J.  Glackens,  George 
Luks  and  Arthur  B.  Davies.  An  exhibition  of  their  work  was 
hung  in  New  York  and  later  throughout  the  larger  cities. 
The  “Eight”  was  in  no  sense  a society,  but  simply  a group  of 
men,  with  the  common  purpose  of  exposing  their  work  and 
of  stimulating  the  founding  of  similar  organizations  outside 
the  dictates  of  the  established  societies.  They  frankly  es= 
poused  the  cause  of  the  “No  Jury”  exhibition,  and  their 
advocacy  of  the  open  forum  has  had  much  to  do  with  develop- 
ing  the  means  whereby  artists  of  all  tendencies  are  given  an 
opportunity  to  exhibit  their  paintings.  Either  separately  or 
as  a body  they  have  been  affiliated  with  many  movements 
preceding  and  following  their  original  showing.  They  played 
an  important  part  in  the  first  “Independent,”  in  1910,  and 
they  are  still  among  the  most  enthusiastic  adherents  of  the 
present  society  of  Independent  Artists.  Another  plan,  orig= 
inated  by  Henri  was  the  policy  of  the  McDowell  Club,  which 
permitted  of  selective  group  exhibitions  without  the  inter- 
ventions of  any  jury. 


[27] 


ROBERT  HENRI 


& 


kOBERT  HENRI’S  eminence  as  a teacher  is  second 
only  to  his  fame  as  a painter.  These  two  activities 
have  been  closely  allied  and  they  have  been  dis= 
tinguished  by  the  absence  of  dogmatic  tenets,  and  by  in= 
citing  free  growth  and  expression.  His  teaching  is  exactly  what 
teaching  should  be.  It  is  never  an  attempt  to  impress  upon 
the  student  the  preceptor’s  personality  so  that  weak  imita= 
tion  results,  nor  is  it  the  hard  and  fast  routine  of  an  academic 
formula.  It  is  rather  as  a guide  to  self  education  that  Henri 
has  proven  himself  so  exceptional.  He  soon  discovered  that 
to  find  realization  in  any  art  an  intense  consciousness  of  all 
experience  is  a necessary  element  and  that  the  best  way  of 
helping  a student  is  to  direct  his  mind  to  the  nurturing  of 
that  consciousness.  The  artist  is  not  merely  one  who  knows 
his  craft  or  manipulates  his  materials  with  a love  for  the 
material  itself,  but  is  he  who  best  understands  the  relation= 
ship  between  the  various  manifestations  of  intellectual  activ= 
ity.  He  must  be  a student;  he  must  comprehend  whatever 
analogy  exists  between  the  various  arts;  he  must  grasp  the 
working  of  the  aesthetic  intuition  and  be  capable  of  fixing  on 
his  canvas  those  essentials  of  life  best  suited  to  the  plastic 
demands  of  his  picture.  Consequently  Henri  does  not  teach — 
he  guides — and  therein  lies  his  success.  He  never  tells  his 
student  how  he  should  paint,  but  tries  rather  to  help  him 
see  through  his  own  eyes,  believing  that  when  personal  vision 
is  sufficiently  developed  expression  will  follow  of  itself.  Al= 
though  he  is  certain  that  the  technical  processes  used  in  pro= 


[28] 


ROBERT  HENRI | 


jecting  a work  of  art  must  be  under  perfect  control,  he  has 
never  placed  undue  emphasis  on  those  processes.  Like  every 
thinking  artist  he  has  understood  that  they  are  useful  only  as 
a means  to  an  end  and  that  the  fascination  which  comes  from 
technical  facility  is  a grave  danger.  In  this  respect  his  teach= 
ing  is  a perfect  summing  up  of  the  fundamental  qualities  of 
his  own  work.  Many  people,  seeing  only  the  ease  with  which 
he  has  achieved  his  results  are  blinded  to  the  deeper  signifi= 
cance  of  his  art.  They  have  failed  to  see  the  logic  of  his 
thought  underlying  his  ease  of  technique. 

As  has  been  shown,  Henri  is  not  a teacher  in  the  popular 
acceptance  of  that  word,  but  a leader  of  acute  powers  of 
suggestion.  Very  often  he  finds  it  possible  to  stimulate  the 
student’s  mind  by  methods  other  than  the  implements  of  his 
work.  It  may  be  some  philosophic  concept,  the  fantasy  of  a 
book  or  some  apparently  unimportant  event  that  will  offer  a 
cue  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose.  If  so,  he  utilizes 
it  with  all  his  acumen,  and  of  course  this  keenness  is  conta= 
gious.  His  pupils  are  kept  constantly  alert.  They  learn  to 
paint,  not  with  Henri’s  eyes  but  with  their  own.  He  simply 
indicates  the  infinite  possibilities  and  they  adapt  them  to 
their  own  ends.  His  students  number  in  the  thousands  but 
one  never  sees  any  imitation  in  the  most  gifted  of  them,  or 
any  similarity,  other  than  a mental  wakefulness.  In  the 
works  of  those  who  have  imitated  him  is  the  best  proof  of  the 
failure  of  the  slower  minds  to  grasp  the  most  important 

[ 29  ] 

ROBERT  HENRI 


principle  of  his  instruction.  Studying  with  Henri  is  never  a 
monotonous  affair.  He  believes  that  life=class  is  for  the 
gaining  of  information  only,  whereas  the  study  of  composi= 
tion  enables  one  to  use  this  information  in  the  creation  of 
pictures.  This  is  why  his  more  talented  students  have  shown 
such  decided  compositional  ingenuity. 

From  time  to  time  he  has  been  persuaded  to  express  him= 
self  in  print,  with  the  result  that  he  has  exhibited  the  same 
capacity  to  get  to  the  heart  of  his  subject  in  his  writing  that 
he  has  in  his  painting.  In  1915  the  Conservator  re=printed 
a portion  of  his  article  “My  People”  and  in  this  single  para= 
graph  he  presented  a complete  outline  of  his  aims: 

“I  find,  as  I go  out  from  one  land  to  another  seeking  ‘my 
people,’  that  I have  none  of  that  cruel,  fearful  possession 
known  as  patriotism;  no  blind  intense  devotion  for  an  insti= 
tution  that  has  stiffened  in  chains  of  its  own  making.  My 
love  of  mankind  is  individual,  not  national,  and  always  I find 
the  race  expressed  in  the  individual.  And  so  I am  ‘patriotic’ 
only  about  what  I admire,  and  my  devotion  to  humanity 
burns  up  as  brightly  for  Europe  as  for  America.  . . . This 

thing  that  I call  dignity  in  a human  being  is  inevitably  the 
result  of  an  established  order  in  the  universe.  Everything 
that  is  beautiful  is  orderly,  and  there  can  be  no  order  unless 
things  are  in  their  right  relation  to  each  other.  Of  this  right 
relation,  throughout  the  world,  beauty  is  born.  . . . It  is 

not  too  much  to  say  that  art  is  the  noting  of  the  existence  of 


ROBERT  HENRI  |‘ 


[30] 


order  throughout  the  world,  and  so  order  stirs  imagination 
and  inspires  one  to  reproduce  this  beautiful  relationship 
existing  in  the  universe  as  best  one  can.  Everywhere  I find 
that  the  moment  order  in  Nature  is  understood  and  freely 
shown,  the  result  is  nobility — the  Irish  peasant  has  nobility 
of  language  and  facial  expression;  the  North  American  Indian 
has  nobility  of  poise,  of  gesture;  nearly  all  children  have 
nobility  of  impulse.  This  orderliness  must  exist  or  the  world 
would  not  hold  together,  and  it  is  a vision  of  orderliness  that 
enables  the  artist  along  any  line,  whatsoever,  to  capture  and 
present  through  his  imagination  the  wonder  that  stimulates 
life.” 

The  principles  contained  in  his  Method  of  Instruction  he 
sets  forth  thus:  ‘‘Development  of  a strong  personal  art  in 
America  through  stimulating  in  students  a more  profound 
study  of  life,  the  purpose  of  art,  a real  understanding  of  Con- 
struction, Proportion,  Drawing — stimulating  activity,  mental 
and  physical,  moral  courage,  invention  in  expression  to  fit 
the  idea  to  be  expressed;  the  study,  therefore,  of  specific 
technic,  not  stock  technic.  Impressing  the  importance  of 
the  Idea,  that  it  must  have  weight,  value,  be  well  worth 
putting  forth  and  in  such  permanent  medium.  The  devel- 
opment, therefore,  of  individuality,  search  for  the  just  means 
of  expressing  the  same,  simply  and  fully.  The  development, 
therefore,  of  artists  of  mind,  philosophy,  sympathy,  courage* 
invention.” 


[31] 


ROBERT  HENRI 


In  the  Craftsman  of  February,  1915,  his  article  entitled 
“My  People’’  contains  much  of  the  love  he  feels  for  the  sub= 
jects  of  his  pictures.  Among  other  things  he  says,  “Always 
we  would  try  to  tie  down  the  great  to  our  little  nationalism; 
whereas  every  great  artist  is  a man  who  has  freed  himself 
from  his  family,  his  nation,  his  race.  Everyone  who  has 
shown  the  world  the  way  to  beauty,  to  true  culture,  has  been 
a rebel,  ‘a  universal’  without  patriotism,  without  home,  who 
has  found  his  people  everywhere,  a man  whom  all  the  world 
recognizes,  accepts,  whether  he  speaks  through  music,  paint= 
ing,  words  or  form.  Each  genius  differs  only  from  the  mass 
in  that  he  has  found  freedom  for  his  greatness;  the  greatness 
is  everywhere,  in  every  man,  in  every  child.  What  our  civili= 
zation  is  doing  mainly  is  smothering  greatness.  It  is  a strange 
anomaly;  we  destroy  what  we  love  and  we  reverence  what  we 
destroy.  The  genius  who  is  great  enough  to  cut  through  our 
restraint  wins  our  applause;  yet  if  we  have  our  own  way  we 
restrain  him.  . . . Fortunately,  however,  the  great,  sig= 

nificant,  splendid  impulse  for  beauty  can  force  its  way  through 
every  boundary.’’  And  in  speaking  of  his  own  work,  he  says: 
“I  have  but  one  intention  and  that  is  to  make  my  language 
as  clear  and  simple  and  sincere  as  is  humanly  possible.  . . . 

All  my  life  I have  refused  to  be  for  or  against  parties,  for  or 
against  nations,  for  or  against  people.  I never  seek  novelty 
or  the  eccentric;  I do  not  go  from  land  to  land  to  contrast 
civilization.  I seek  wherever  I go  only  for  symbols  of  great= 
ness,  and  as  I have  already  said  they  may  be  found  in  the  eyes 


ROBERT  HENRI 


f 


[32] 


of  a child,  in  the  movement  of  a gladiator,  in  the  heart  of  a 
gypsy,  in  twilight  in  Ireland,  or  in  the  moon=rise  over  the 
desert.  Since  my  return  from  the  Southwest,  where  I saw 
many  great  things  in  a variety  of  human  forms:  a little 
Chinese=American  girl,  who  has  found  coquetry  in  new  free= 
dom;  the  peon,  a symbol  of  a destroyed  civilization  in  Mexico, 
and  the  Indian  who  works  as  one  in  slavery  and  dreams  as  a 
man  in  still  places — I have  been  reproached  with  not  adding 
to  my  study  of  these  people  the  background  of  their  lives. 
This  has  astonished  me  because  all  their  lives  are  in  their 
expressions,  in  their  eyes,  in  their  moods,  or  they  are  not 
worth  translating  into  art.  I was  not  interested  in  these 
people  to  sentimentalize  over  them,  to  mourn  over  the  fact 
that  we  have  destroyed  the  Indian;  that  we  are  changing  the 
shy  Chinese  girl  into  a soubrette;  that  our  progress  through 
Mexico  leaves  a demoralized  race  like  the  peons.  That  is  not 
what  I’m  on  the  outlook  for.  ...  I do  not  wish  to  explain 
these  people,  I do  not  wish  to  preach  through  them.  I only 
want  to  find  whatever  of  the  great  spirit  there  is  in  the  South= 
west.  . . . Every  nation  in  the  world,  in  spite  of  itself,  pro= 
duces  the  occasional  individual  that  does  express  in  some 
sense  this  beauty,  with  enough  freedom  for  natural  growth. 
. . . Each  man  must  seek  for  himself  the  people  who  hold 
the  essential  beauty,  and  each  man  must  eventually  say  to 
himself  as  I do,  ‘These  are  my  people,  and  all  that  I have  I 
owe  to  them.’  ” 

[33] 


1 


ROBERT  HENRI 


It  can  be  seen  from  Henri’s  own  words,  that  his  message 
is  so  uncompromisingly  direct,  that  its  human  aspect  can  be 
seized  by  even  those  unaware  of  the  more  abstract  essentials 
of  his  work.  Like  so  much  of  the  great  art  of  the  past,  the 
illustrative  element  in  his  painting  will  always  assure  him  of 
popular  appreciation  and  an  important  position  among  the 
chroniclers  of  his  age.  And  so  we  find  in  this  man,  cosmopoli= 
tan  though  he  is,  the  simplicity  of  purpose  that  sets  apart  the 
American  artist  from  his  more  cerebral  colleague  of  Europe. 
The  sensitively  human  aspect  of  his  painting  will  carry  his 
name  into  the  future  and  succeeding  generations  will  see  in 
it  a definite  advance  in  the  development  of  our  aesthetic  ideals. 

Paintings  by  Robert  Henri  are  owned  by  the  following 
museums: 

Luxembourg  Gallery,  Paris 
Chicago  Art  Institute 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts 
Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh 
Brooklyn  Museum  of  Arts  and  Sciences 
Gallery  of  Spartanburg,  S.  C. 

Art  Association  of  Texas,  Dallas,  Texas 
Columbus  Gallery  of  Fine  Arts,  Columbus,  O. 

Art  Association  of  New  Orleans 
Carolina  Art  Association,  Charleston,  S.  C. 

Art  Institute  of  Kansas  City 
San  Francisco  Institute  of  Art 
Metropolitan  Museum,  New  York 
National  Arts  Club,  New  York 


ROBERT  HENRI 


[34] 


Museum  of  Art  and  Archaeology,  Santa  Fe,  N.  M. 

Minneapolis  Museum 

Buffalo  Fine  Arts  Gallery,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 

Gallery  of  Oberlin  College,  Oberlin,  O. 

Memphis  Museum 

Detroit  Institute  of  Art 

Toledo  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo,  O. 

Milwaukee  Art  Institute 

Telfair  Academy  of  Arts  and  Science,  Savannah,  Ga. 
Corcoran  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  D.  C. 

City  Art  Museum,  Saint  Louis 

Wilmington  Society  of  Fine  Arts,  Wilmington,  Del. 
Butler  Art  Institute,  Youngstown,  O. 

Cincinnati  Museum 

AWARDS  RECEIVED  BY  ROBERT  HENRI 

Silver  Medal,  Pan  American  Exposition,  Buffalo,  1901 
Silver  Medal,  Universal  Exposition,  Saint  Louis,  1904 
Norman  W.  Harris  Medal  and  Prize  of  $500.00,  Chicago  Art 
Institute,  1905 

Gold  Medal,  Art  Club  of  Philadelphia,  1909 
Silver  Medal,  International  Fine  Arts  Expn.,  Buenos  Ayres, 
S.  A.,  1910 

Carol  H.  Beck  Gold  Medal,  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  the 
Fine  Arts,  1914 

Silver  Medal,  Panama  Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco,  1115 
Silver  Medal  for  best  Portrait,  Wilmington  Society  of  Fine 
Arts,  1920 


[35] 


I 


ROBERT  HENRI 


[38] 


IRISH  LASS 


3 If*  ^tJcakr:  ^MPlPaiSjl  ."  ..'Mfe^. 

^vi  ig 

ytmt  ^ \ 

PORTRAIT  OF  “PAT”  ROBERTS  COLLECTION  OF  LLOYD  ROBERTS 


CECILIA 


MARY  O’D. 


MARY  OF  CONNEMARA 


WILLIE  GEE 


RUTH  ST.  DENIS  IN  “THE  PEACOCK  DANCE” 


HEAD  OF  A MAN 


LAUGHING  GYPSY  GIRL 


. 


. 


■ 


. 


■ 


[86  J 


~r..~ 


PORTRAIT  OF  JEAN 


FAY  BAINTER  AS  THE  IMAGE  IN  “THE  WILLOW  TREE 


CINCO  CENTIMO 


[96] 


SIS 


[98] 


MANUS 


. 


CATHERINE 


> 


t 104  J 


THE  GUIDE  TO  CROAGHAN 


THE  WORKING  MAN 


IMAGINATIVE  BOY 


